Pulling the String
by Domicile
Summary: “Yeah, I didn’t really consider the repercussions of my crimes in the midst of committing them.” CAM
1. Chapter 1

"What're you wearing?"

You smile into the darkness, relishing in the basic feel of her voice over your cell phone. The clock on the nightstand says it's nearly one in the morning, but you are still glad she called. Even if this was what she was choosing to talk about.

"Nothing." You respond nonchalantly, even shrugging despite the distance. She's across town, at home, in bed. As are you. And yet, somehow, your thoughts still drift to each other.

"Fantastic. Can I come over?" She's only joking, of course. Ever since you both made the big 1-6 in age, she's been doing this. This playful flirting thing that's driving you absolutely crazy. The first time she pretended to hit on you, you laughed. You had honestly found it funny. Now, though. Now everything was different.

"Sure." You hiss into the phone, trying to keep your voice down.

There's a silent pause on the line and you can picture her brow crinkling in consideration. "Or maybe you should come see me? You'll have an easier time sneaking out." She finally says.

"Goodnight." You breathe, edged off with a small chuckle, your fingers drifting to shut off the phone so you can finally get some sleep.

"Wait!" She whispers loudly into the phone and you halt.

"What?"

"I'm not joking this time."

"What?" You're sitting up now, staring at your bed in surprise.

"If you can make it over here easier, than you should be the one on her way. But I can come to you." Your ears are trying to pull some trace of a joke out of her voice, but they find none.

"Wait, but…" You protest, but she cuts you off.

"Its cool. It's not that far. I'll be over in like fifteen minutes."

"But…"

"See you soon."

"Sam…" Her name slips through your lips just as the line disconnects. Your heart is pounding faster than even that day you thought you might be leaving Spencer and Freddie and her to live at your grandfather's house. Your first thought, though, is to the fact that you weren't lying when you said you weren't wearing anything. So out of bed it is, scrounging around on the floor in the dark, searching for suitable pajama material.

Part of you thinks she probably isn't coming. Part of you desperately hopes that she is. You can't remember when you started hoping she meant every word that came out of her mouth, but it feels like forever ago. And you definitely don't remember when anything about your feelings for her became desperate. That couldn't possibly be right. But it was, and your heart skipping a beat every few seconds at the thought of her wasn't helping you convince yourself otherwise.

It was really ridiculous for you to be overreacting like this. She came over all the time. She practically lived with you during the school year because your house is closer to the school and iCarly. Well, at least that's the excuse she's always given her mother. And during the summer, who else would she spend all of her free time with but her best friend?

Best friend. That word seems to be encompassing a different part of your life that has nothing to do with the last few months. You haven't looked at her as your best friend for months, really, so how could you think this visit was like all the other ones? And its not like she's no longer the person you care about most in the world. She's still that. No question. But now she's also the girl who calls you in the middle of the night and sends you into panic mode.

Did she really mean something by it this time? If she did come over, would it just be like old times and you would go to bed and sleep on your own sides? Or would something happen? Would the entire dynamic of your relationship shift yet again, leaving you breathless and scared because you are trying so hard to catch up, but at the same time excited and satisfied with the recent change of events?

You don't know. But you are about to find out. And now that you have a couple of shirts and a pair of pants on your body, you are ready to.

She shows up almost twenty minutes after her call and you sigh in relief. Hey, Seattle is a dangerous place for a young girl at night. At least, that's what you tell yourself because otherwise you have to realize the sigh was because she actually showed up.

You nearly missed her arrival too, her movements downstairs were almost inaudible, but you heard the click of the lock, so you know she's there.

Your heart gets the better of you, and you exit your bedroom and rush down the stairs in a hurry. Standing at the bottom is…

Spencer. Creeping around the kitchen.

You feel so hurt, you want to cry. But Spencer has noticed you now, so you have to pretend like you found exactly what you expected.

"What are you doing?" You question him pointedly, placing your hands on your hips. Really to steady yourself than to appear as an opposing figure in front of your brother.

He holds up an obnoxiously large turkey leg with a bite missing from it. "I was working late on a sculpture with Socko. I got home and I was hungry. Why? Were you coming down for the leg? You can have the other one."

You rub your lips together. You had already known Spencer was going to be out late, he had called you three times and left several notes around the house to remind you he wouldn't be home until late, so seeing him really should have been expected.

"I don't want the turkey leg." You tell him. From the expression on his face, you imagine you have a very defeated look on your visage. Being the loyal brother he is, in a flash his arms and the turkey leg are holding onto you tightly.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug out of his grasp, wiping at your face. "Nothing. I just had a bad dream." And that's probably the first time you've ever really lied to Spencer.

He nods his understanding, like he had the same dream and has actually been having it since he was little. "You wanna watch some TV or something to relax a little before you go back to bed?" He offers.

You shake your head. "No, I'm okay. I need sleep. I've got school in the morning."

"Okay," He agrees after a moments' study of your face, taking another bite of turkey. "If you're sure."

You nod. "I am."

He kisses you on the forehead and heads back down the stairs. "Night, kid."

"Night, Spencer." You head back upstairs, tears finally breaking loose when you enter your room.

You don't know why you had expected her to be there. But, for some reason, you couldn't feel more pain and sadness and anger because she didn't show up. Of course she'd been kidding. She was always kidding. That was just how life was. You fell for your same sex best friend who then tortured you with your own feelings and didn't realize it.

You flop down onto you bed, burying your head in the pillow. You sob for a long moment as quietly as possible so Spencer doesn't hear you. When you finally hear his bedroom door shut, you let the dry, wracking wails shake your slim body, pouring your emotion into the poor pillow. After a few minutes, you realize you are still wearing the fucking clothes you put on just so you'd be presentable for her. So you rip those off and throw them across the room, vowing to never wear them again.

After about ten minutes of suffering, you roll over and calm down. Sometimes raw emotional outbursts are necessary to maintain good mental health, you tell yourself in a low voice.

Something is stabbing you in the back, you realize after a couple of minutes of repeating your new personal mantra. You arch your back and retrieve the annoyance, which turns out to be a piece of paper. On the light next to your bed goes and you sit up. Written on the paper was a single question.

_Bet you thought I wasn't really coming, didn't you?_

The tears are back now, only the happy kind. She really had showed up. You glare around your room suspiciously. How had she gotten in an out without your notice and without using the front door?


	2. Chapter 2

You're all hanging out together, so there's no way you can mention the events of the previous night. Spencer and Freddie are most definitely not in the loop on this game you seem to be playing with Sam as of late, and you prefer it that way. Still, the way she's curled into your side and sharing your blanket keeps everything fresh in your brain.

_House On Haunted Hill_ plays on the TV, but you've hardly paid attention to it. You've always thought it was more gross than scary anyway. Sam, however, is enraptured by it. Her eyes stare deep into the TV, wide and unblinking. She jumps at all the right parts and laughs at the more disturbing scenes. Its one of the things you love about her: all of the contradictions in her behavior.

One of the things you don't love about her so much right now is the hand she's got drawing circles on your inner thigh. Mostly because you aren't really sure why she's doing it. Shouldn't she have shown up last night if she wanted your attention this way? But she did show up last night. She just didn't stick around. Those were more important questions: how did she get into the house and why did she leave so soon? Even if nothing had happened, you were still friends and she could have spent the night after coming so far. But she had just left a note and taken off. What was up with that?

"Sam," You're leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"What?" She replies distractedly.

"Could I speak to you for a minute? Alone?"

"But Carly!" She whines. "This is the best part."

"This is the worst part." You correct. "Please?"

"Fine."

Spencer and Freddie's eyes are both glued to the two of you as you meander out of the room. Sam drags her feet and pouts like a small child being dragged out of the candy store the whole way.

Once in your room, though, she plops down on your bed and grins at you in a totally innocent but in the know way. "Sup, good buddy?"

You roll your eyes. "I think you know what I want to talk about."

"I'm pretty sure I don't." She denies, crossing her feet at the ankle. "Enlighten me."

"About last night."

"What about last night?"

"You said you were coming over."

"I did come over."

"What you did was a B and E. I didn't even see you."

"You weren't supposed to."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Just because."

"Sam!" You exclaim, feeling more flustered than you should. "Could you just give me a couple answers? I'm just trying to figure out what's going on in your head."

She rubs her lips together and looks around. She shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you."

"It doesn't have to be big or anything." You shrug, moving closer to her. "Just clue me in a little, okay?"

"That's the problem." She tells you. "There's nothing to clue you in on."

"You're saying you keep calling me at midnight every night to have this… weird conversation and leave notes on my bed for no reason at all?"

She nods. "Yep."

You drop down onto the bed next to her. "I never thought this day would come."

"What day?"

"The day you started lying to me." You fold your legs Indian style and turn to face her.

"I'm not lying to you."

"Oh, please. I get that you enjoy messing with people, but you never mess with me. Never. And this is how you're going to start? By coming on to me in the middle of the night?"

Her expression is easy to read: she doesn't want to talk about this. But you want to talk about it so badly, you don't care.

"I'm not coming on to you." She finally mumbles, turning to face you.

"Then what are you doing?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Nothing."

You roll your eyes. "Right."

She's biting her lip. "Did you want me to be?"

You hesitate before answering, "What if I do?" Her eyes widen. "What if I want you? What if I just want you to want me? I don't freaking know! You know why?"

She shakes her head. "Why?"

"Because normally I'd discuss this with my best friend! But what is she doing?"

"Hitting on you in the middle of the night." Sam fills in obediently.

"Exactly. So what do I do?"

She shrugs, honestly looking lost this time. "I don't know."

"You see? This was all I could come up with."

"This talk?"

"No, this."

You kiss her then. Its forced and your teeth sting behind your smooshed lips, but you are still pretty sure it is the right decision. Neither of you shut your eyes, which is odd because that's what everyone on TV does. Instead, you stare at each other, watching her pupils dilate and trying to figure out what she's thinking. You finally pull back after a few minutes of intense eye and lip contact, hoping for her to say something, but she doesn't.

"Well, what do you think?" Your words are shaky even though you cleared your throat and smoothed your hair in an attempt to relax.

She rubs her lips together and her eyes dart back and forth between her right knee and your face. "A little painful." She finally says.

You feel like crying for no reason at all, but you don't because you are better than that. Maybe. "Painful?" You exclaim.

"Well, you kind of smashed our heads together. Very painful."

You drop your head, ashamed. All of that confidence that had allowed you to drag Sam off to your bedroom earlier is gone. "Sorry." You mumble uncertainly.

"Just try it a little softer." Her hand skates along your jaw until your lips meet hers once more and it's so much better than last time.

This kiss actually feels good and whatnot. Which yours had all the makings of but- screw it. That kiss was a success only in the fact that it led to this one. This delicate pressing together that has her body edging closer to yours and her fingers curled into your dark locks is ten times better than the one you initiated.

A knock on your door and, "Carly?" Have you throwing yourself across the room from Sam.

"What?" You shout, a little louder than necessary,

Freddie enters then, completely oblivious to the messed hair and bed and reddened lips. "Movie's over." He informs, popping a squat at your desk like you had invited him in. Normally, Freddie doesn't get on your nerves. You even enjoy him. But now…

"Oh, really? How'd it end?" You inquire politely while your insides writhe in anger.

He gives you a look that says his mom would kill him if he ever dared to give away the ending to a movie. "My mom would kill me if I ever dared to give away the ending of a movie. You'll just have to watch it yourself."

"Oh, right." You respond.

Sam remains on your bed with her feet planted firmly into the floor. Her fingernails are clearly trying to pop off her own kneecaps and she stares at her shoes. You might not be willing to say anything after what had happened before Freddie had barged in, but the boy had no such holdups.

"What's wrong with you?" He throws at her.

She shakes her head, not moving her focus from her shoes. "Nothing. Your face just reminded me that I shouldn't have had that last helping of mashed potatoes and gravy."

"Right." He raises his eyebrows. "So what do you guys want to do now?"

"I don't know…" You say, glancing pointedly at the clock. "Its kind of late. I think Sam and I are going to bunk down for the night."

"I'm spending the night?" Her eyes are wide and wild, centered in on you, jumping to her feet. She sits back down nonchalantly. "I mean, of course I'm spending the night."

Freddie acknowledges this little exchange, but shrugs it off easily. "That's cool. Can I at least stay for dinner? Spencer is making spaghetti tacos."

"You should spend the night too." Sam throws out there. "We were just talking about how awesome it would be to have a celebratory iCarly cast and crew sleep over."

You wish Sam would make eye contact with you so you could glare at her. "We were?"

"We were." Sam confirms, still looking at Freddie. "I know your mother would be against it, but Spencer will be there and we're all sleeping in the living room."

"We are?" You say.

"We are." She nods.

His eyes drift as he considers. "My mom might not be too against that. She'd probably want to sleep over too, even though we live right across the hall-"

"That's fine!" Sam exclaims. "The more the merrier!"

Freddie hops to his feet, clearly excited. "Great. I'll go ask her."

As soon as he is out the door, you are back on the bed next to Sam. "What the hell are you doing?"

She finally meets your eyes, feigning innocence. "Celebrating iCarly?"

"Look, I'm sorry I kissed you. You don't have to invite Freddie and his mom over in order to get me to back off. I get the message." You sigh, standing.

"I'm not sorry." She says, standing too. "I just freaked out in the moment. Don't you ever do that?"

"Well…"

"Give me a chance here, Carly. I've never done something like-" she waves her hand back and forth between you, "- this before. It feels weird."

"Yay." You say in a monotone. "I make you feel weird."

She laughs. "No, it's not like that. I just need a little time to breathe and think about this."

"And you had to invite Freddie and his mom to spend the night to do that?"

Sam frowns painfully at you. "Yeah, I didn't really consider the repercussions of my crimes in the midst of committing them."

You grin at her and rejoice in the fact that she smiles back. "So what happened before Freddie came in was cool with you?"

She kisses your forehead and pats your hair. "Sure, cupcake."

"Sam…"

This time she kisses you slow and solid with her tongue tracing your bottom lip.

"Yeah. I'm cool with this."


End file.
